


Santa, what do you get someone who just wants to be loved?

by I_am_a_grenade



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parenting, Child Abandonment, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Eve, Christmas Lights, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, England (Country), Gen, Guilt, How Do I Tag, Ice Skating, Idk if it can be considered that, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, London, Minecraft, Pain, Phil is like a dad, Self-Worth Issues, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, but they did leave and haven't come back in like 2 weeks so, this is fictional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_grenade/pseuds/I_am_a_grenade
Summary: “It's going to be okay, alright? Where are your parents?” Wilbur asked, the sound of furious shuffling in the background hurting Tommy’s ears. “That’s a good fucking question!” Tommy yelled into the phone, anger and pent up sadness bleeding through the device, misdirected anger harming the other person. “They’re gone Wilbur, they’re gone and I-I don’t know if-” his body wracked as a cough resonated through his body.“I don’t think they’re coming back,” he whispered the last part, the reality of the single sentence sending his world spiraling.It's Christmas, and Tommy is alone.Until he isn't.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 164
Kudos: 1501
Collections: MCYT Fic Rec, The Reasons For My Insomnia





	1. I haven’t been Naughty, nor have I been Nice. Does Santa have a list for kids just tryna get by?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Enough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369619) by [piteouspeculiarity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piteouspeculiarity/pseuds/piteouspeculiarity). 



> Hello, hi! Its Christmas time, and I wanted some sad times so I can make a happy christmas family bonding moment. 
> 
> I was actually inspired by @piteouspeculiarity 's work, 'Enough'. I really love how they wrote the family dynamic, the story, and overall the entire thing. I highly recommend reading it, it's amazing.

_‘I haven’t been Naughty, nor have I been Nice. Does Santa have a list for kids just tryna get by?’_

Tommy’s favourite time of the year was Christmas. He’d said it so many times, on streams, on calls, to his friends. 

This year though, he wished it was over and done with. 

The usually bustling Christmas tree that he’d get and decorate by himself was sad and bare. There were no Christmas baked goods to share and eat while his family sat around the warm fireplace and told stories and tall tales. A dead hearth and an oven that hadn’t been turned on in weeks showed that. 

The presents he’d meticulously wrap every year weren’t there, only a small cardboard box with his name that he’d hastily scrawled on in sharpie. 

The house was dark and bare and cold. And not a single soul aside from Tommy had been inside it for quite awhile. 

They’d left him, weeks ago. Told him that he was ridiculous and foolish and couldn’t do anything correctly. They hadn’t come back. 

He’d waited. 

And waited. 

And waited some more. 

He sat on the front stairs, cold hot chocolate in hand, waiting. Somewhere, deep down in his gut he knew no one would come to the door. 

His mother and father were gone, but accepting that was something Tommy wasn’t ready for.

He’d known their marriage was falling apart, ever since he was a kid. He remembered his grandfather telling him when they were so much _happier_ before he was born. 

The ageing man was trying to tell him they weren’t always so mad all the time. But the way he said it made Tommy realize that his birth had put a huge strain on their relationship, even as a young seven year old. 

Over the years, his parents had fought more. Christmas time had always been a stressful time, his parents fighting more and more, the tensions rising. They never did anything for Christmas, but Tommy always decorated the house and bought gifts and a tree.  
Perhaps the stress of the holiday was part of the reason. Jobs got more hectic, traffic was worse, and literally anything Tommy did would set them off. It wasn’t like walking on eggshells or glass, no, it was like walking on bombs that exploded no matter what.  
He’d get his parents gifts, setting aside a few for himself. Most of the time he’d never get a gift from his parents, but on the few occasions he did it had made him so happy. 

And he knew normal families had Christmas that everyone prepared and celebrated. Knew that his version of Christmas could be viewed as depressing and sad.

But it was the one time of year that he could sit with his parents and open gifts and have some level of normalcy and feel loved. 

And this year he’d gone and fucked it up. 

The feeling of something wet dripping onto his hand made him aware of the tears that were falling ever so slowly. He felt his cheeks, rubbing the salty tears off, as more followed to replace the drying patches. 

He let out a choked sob. 

It was never enough. He was never enough. 

When he’d asked his parents if they could put just a little bit of effort into Christmas, they’d snapped and yelled at him. His father had hit him, harder than normal, and Tommy thought he might have had a concussion when his head ricocheted off the wall. His mother had tormented him with her pointed words, sharpened over years on a whetstone of anger and spite, made to find the weaknesses in him. 

They’d left that night, telling him not to bother calling them, even though he did at least a dozen times. 

Rubbing blue puffy eyes, he stretched, getting off from the stairs to walk around the house, the lights off. The tiny illumination of the fading sun keeping the sky a dim blue was the only source of light in the bare and lonely house. It was almost picturesque, a boy looking out the window at the slowly falling snow, the house around him dark and empty. Eyes flickered away from the window and towards the dining room table where his phone sat. Swiftly picking it up, he turned it on, the brightness glaring and harsh and his eyes adjusted to the bombardment of light. 

**4:30 pm  
Tuesday, December 23rd, 2020  
\-----  
Wilbur Soot, Wednesday**

_Hey Tommy, don’t forget Techno’s coming here for the holidays. Maybe we can do a meet up or smth_

**Wilbur Soot, Thursday**

_Want to do a sleepy bois inc stream?_

**Wilbur Soot, Friday**

_Tommy?_

**Wilbur Soot, Saturday**

_Tommy_

**Wilbur Soot, Saturday**

_Tommy, answer_

**Wilbur Soot, Sunday**

_Tomathy, pick up your fucking phone_

**Wilbur Soot, Yesterday 4:37 pm**

_Tommy, I swear to god, if you do not respond I will DRIVE down to your house and shake some sense into you child_

**\-----**

**Tubbo, Yesterday at 6:00 pm**

_Hey Tommy! Wanna straem 4 a litttle later? :D_

**Tubbo, Today at 8:00 am**

_Tommy, r u alright? Wilbr said u hadn’t respondde to him allll wek_

**\-----**

**The BLADE, Today 12:00 pm**

You okay nerd? I thought you’d jump at the chance to do a sbi stream.  
**\-----**

**Philza, Yesterday 4:31 pm**

_Hey Tommy, can you please respond to Wilbur? He’s really worried about you_

**Philza, Today 2:12 pm**

_Tommy, respond_

**Today, 2:47**

_Tommy, are you alright?_  
**\-----**

_17 Missed Calls from_ **Wilbur Soot**

 _2 Missed Calls from_ **Tubbo**

 _5 Missed Calls from_ **The BLADE**

 _10 Missed Calls from_ **Philza**

 **\-----**  
**Twitch**  
Wilbur Soot is Live

 _Sleepy Bois Inc Stream!_  
**\-----**  
**Twitch**  
Philza Minecraft is Live

 _Yes, hello, I guess I’m doing a SBI stream_  
**\-----**  
**YouTube**  
TechnoBlade is Streaming!

**Help I’m stuck in England  
**\-----**  
**Discord**  
_Wilbur Soot_  
**@everyone** Hey, has anyone heard from Tommy? **

****

****

**_Technoblade_  
**@Tommyinnit** **

**_Tubbo__  
**@Tommyinnit** you good big man? **

****

****

**_Dream_  
**@Tommyinnit** Tommy respond **

****

**_Sapnap_  
**@Tommyinnit** sorry I killed Henry, please respond **

****

****

**_Niki_  
** **@Tommyinnit Tommy?**  
**\-----**

He felt something close around his throat, his airway constricted as he fought back tears. He’d worried his friends, great. Another thing to add to the why-Tommy-ruins-everything list. 

\- Makes people worried over nothing 

He sobbed, falling to the floor, hands clenched around his phone, tears sliding and slipping down his cheeks as he grabbed his hair and put his head in his knees. 

It hurt, it _hurt_ and he couldn’t fix the guilt and the pain. 

Christmas time was Tommyinnit’s favourite time of the year. Bullshit. All it had brought him was a false sense of hope. 

And hope is the most dangerous feeling of all. A sense of something changing, getting better, only to have it snatched away before his fingers could do more than graze it. He felt boiling rage spill over him, overwhelming his senses. He let out a guttural yell into the empty home, trying to release the burning feeling in his chest that wouldn’t leave. 

Had it really been too much to ask to have a Christmas where he didn’t have to do all the work? No, no it wasn’t, and he was sick, and tired, and _exhausted_ of trying to please a raging storm that was beyond his abilities to tame. 

Sick of listening to the screams and shouts and sounds of slaps that echoed through the house at night. Sick of the smell of alcohol when his father came home after a fight, likely cheating on his mother. Hated and despised by said mother. 

Tired of trying to hide bruises and wounds that he shouldn’t have to. Exhausted on trying to keep up a facade of being incredibly happy and energetic. Pretending to act like his life hadn’t been crumbling around him since he was young, only increasing its deterioration as he got older. 

**_Ring_ **

The soft white glow on the screen of his phone made him unfurl from the ball on the floor, the sound of his Able Sister’s ringtone echoing through the empty room. 

**_Wilbur Soot is calling…_ **

He hesitated over the accept button. 

He wasn’t in any state to answer the phone. Stringing together coherent sentences seemed like an impossible task at the moment. But...his friends were worried. He couldn’t let them be worried over something as trivial as himself. 

“Hey Big Man,” he spoke monotonically through the phone. 

“Tommy, thank fuck. Why haven’t you been answering my texts?” he could hear the older man’s relieved tone through the phone, could picture the facial expression and the exasperated hand running through hair. “I’ve been busy, you know, Christmas and all,” he mumbled, absentmindedly looking through the window at the suddenly falling snow. “And you couldn’t have just said anything, _something_ to let me know you were okay?!” he could hear Wilbur yell through the phone, demanding an explanation. 

“Sorry Big Man,” he whispered. Wilbur went silent, obviously picking up on his own lack of enthusiasm, and Tommy cursed himself for not putting more effort into the conversation. Well, more like confrontation than conversing with the elder, but whatever. 

“Are you okay?” 

_‘Are you okay?’_

Such a simple question, so easy to answer. 

Why did it feel so hard and daunting then? 

He let out a choked sob, falling into a seat at the dining room table, tears starting up once more. Cursing himself for being weak, he tried to stop the sobs. 

"Tommy, Tommy! What’s wrong?!” Wilbur sounded so worried, and the blonde could hear other concerned voices in the background. He didn’t have the energy nor the brainpower at the moment to discern the familiar voices. 

“Everything Wil, everything is so, so, so wrong, and I can’t fix it anymore.” he whispered shakily through the phone. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“It's going to be okay, alright? Where are your parents?” Wilbur asked, the sound of furious shuffling in the background hurting Tommy’s ears. “That’s a good fucking question!” Tommy yelled into the phone, anger and pent up sadness bleeding through the device, misdirected anger harming the other person. “They’re gone Wilbur, they’re gone and I-I don’t know if-” his body wracked as a cough resonated through his body. 

“I don’t think they’re coming back,” he whispered the last part, the reality of the single sentence sending his world spiraling. Not being able to control anything, the realization that he couldn’t fix it made him start to hyperventilate. 

“Toms, breathe,” Phil’s voice, calm and steady, drifted through the device pressed against his ear, slowly slipping from trembling fingers. “We’re right here, and I’m not going to leave. Hold your breath for ten seconds and release, try to stabilize you breathing.” 

Following the others' requests, he shakily began to hold his breath, releasing it unsteadily. All the while, Phil told him how much he cared, that he wasn’t going to leave, that he was there and he was sure whatever was going on was going to be fine. 

The teenager didn’t believe all of it, but it calmed him down significantly. 

“Where are you?” 

Tommy blinked, the monotone voice cutting through the heavy silence that had overtaken the phone call. 

“I’m at home.” 

“What’s your address Tommy,” Techno asked, voice never changing, flat and dead sounding. Tommy froze, words and toxic thoughts flooding into his head. 

_‘You make the people around you pity you, you know that?’_

_‘He’s completely useless, stupid, and quite frankly, loud and annoying.’_

_‘Geez, you're so annoying. Making me feel bad and thinking I care, you're really selfish you know?’_

“Why?” he’s throat constricted, the word hard to spit out. He already knew the answer, though he desperately prayed he was wrong. Selfish, useless, clingy, desperate, attention seeker. They were right, weren’t they? 

“We’re coming to your house. We care about you Toms, we want to make sure you're alright I’m-we’re worried,” Techno’s words solidified his growing guilt. “No need Big Man, I feel better already, in fact, I actually have to go,” he interrupted. “Sorry for bothering you all and making you worried, I’m just being stupid, hope you enjoy England Techno.” 

“Tommy-” the call ended before the blonde could hear the end of the sentence. Curling into a ball, he belittled himself for ever answering the phone, upset at the outcome. 

He closed his eyes, head rested on the wood table tiredly, tears tracking down his cheeks until he fell into a dreamless state of sleep. 

The darkness had never looked so welcoming. 


	2. Christmas is meant to be celebrated together, not alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tommy-”
> 
> And suddenly Tommy was crying, burying his eyes in the sleeves of his shirt, tears flowing fast. He hiccuped, heaving as he tried to stop himself unsuccessfully. Wilbur stepped forward, and Tommy didn’t flinch as he wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, who moved his hands away from his face and around Wilbur’s waist instead.
> 
> The yellow sweatered man felt Phil and Techno join in, and if Wilbur's shirt got wet, he didn’t comment on it, simply holding the boy.
> 
> “I-I don’t know what I did wrong,” he whispered. “I-I did everything, they just left, and I’m alone-” he sniffed. “They don't love me, a-and.” There was a loud swallowing sound.
> 
> “I don’t think they ever did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update everyone! I hope you can forgive me.

He missed it.

Missed the chaotic, angry shouts demanding he apologize in a jokingly way. Felt like something was missing when he’d make a joke on stream, and have no one to bounce it off of, the void the blonde left steadily growing. 

Sure, Techno coming to England and Phil staying over for the next few weeks or so was a great distraction from the void, but with its growth it became harder to ignore. Phone calls ending in voicemails, text messages stayed unread. He was sure that the obnoxious british sixteen year old was fine, he just wished his reasoning could convince his gut. 

The void only grew as the week gradually ended, and the next began. 

When he’d expected an exuberant response to the proposal of a Sleepy Bois Inc. stream and received none, he was no longer the only one concerned.

Especially when it appeared the teenager never even acknowledged it. 

Had they done something wrong?

He was merely a teen, raging and not taking into account words had meaning and cause and effect, despite the older’s attempts to educate him in said matters. The gremlin child also had a hard time putting his feelings into words, to make people understand that he was upset. Perhaps they’d set him off without realizing it, making him ignore them?

“Wilbur, I know you're worried, but you need to calm down. Stressing over Tommy won’t do anybody any good. I’ll text him and give him a call, okay? Techno, you reach out to him too. Chances are, he’d never ignore you, the child practically idolizes you,” Phil rolled his eyes, Techno snorted and Wilbur felt the feeling in his gut become a little lighter.

The lightness didn’t last long, and soon it felt as if more weight had been added.

No response.

“Hey Wilbur, can you ask Tommy about him and I streaming? I texted him earlier, he hasn’t answered. He usually responds within the hour,” Tubbo askes one day while they’re on the SMP, neither streaming. 

If Tommy hadn’t even answered Tubbo, what the hell was going on?

“I haven’t been able to get in contact with Tommy in a week or so Tubbo, I’m sorry,” he confessed, and Tubbo went silent. “That’s not like Tommy. I’ll text him again later.”

Wilbur simply hummed in acknowledgement, the weight only getting heavier. 

He called once, twice more.

_‘You’ve reached Tommy Innit dickhead, leave a message after the beep bitch.’_

He mouthed the voicemail message as the staticky familiar voice spoke, silently speaking the lines he’d heard over and over again. He couldn't help but smile at the sound of the brash voice.

Wilbur had even reached out to Discord earlier in the week, asking if anyone had heard from Tommy, although no one had.

Staring out into the dreary snowy evening, the brunette’s eyes glazed over as he scrowled mindlessly through thousands of tweets, not really absorbing anything. Techno sat at the opposite side of the couch, laughing quietly at a joke from a show on Netflix about a New York police precinct.

Brown eyes landed on a singular tweet, a clip of Tommy on his 1 mil video, asking a poor shopkeeper if they had ‘Chirp, from minecraft’. Sighing, he exited the app, finger hesitating over the phone icon. The feeling in his gut became unbearable, and he tapped the green app, and then selected ‘Gremlin Child’ on his contacts quickly.

Techno looked up as he saw Wilbur press the phone to his ear, for the third time that day. He said nothing, simply turning back to the show he’d be intently watching to keep himself distracted from his own gut feeling. 

_Ring_

__

__

_Ring_

_Ring_

_Rin-_

“Hey Big Man.”

He nearly sobbed in relief, the feeling in his gut lessening. “Tommy, thank fuck. Why haven’t you been answering my texts?” He was exasperated, and suddenly incredibly annoyed. Now that he knew Tommy was fine, he would raise hell on the gremlin for making him worry. Techno whipped his head back to Wilbur as he spoke.

“I’ve been busy, you know, Christmas and all,” he didn’t pick up on the subtle mumble, the way the usual boastful and prideful tone was currently absent. Wilbur felt angry, angry that he’d had to deal with this amount of stress the entire week because a teenager went MIA for a while. 

“And you couldn’t have just said anything, _something_ to let me know you were okay?!” he demanded, and Wilbur thought, no, _knew_ he deserved an explanation. 

“Sorry Big Man,” the anger was snuffed out before it became a full out forest fire, and _why oh why was the gut feeling back?_

Tommy was never a child to speak so meekly, so tiredly. Even when he would pester the elder at 4 am in the morning, he never lacked luster in his words. Yet he spoke so...defeated. 

Perhaps that was why the gut feeling returned. 

“Are you okay?” simple, short, nicely said. It was a sentence that conveyed so many messages in a neat package. A sentence that was rarely used, yet it should be. 

There was silence, shattered by a broken sob, distorted slightly due to static. 

Wilbur panicked, making frantic hand movements at Techno to retrieve Phil from the kitchen. “Tommy, Tommy! What’s wrong?!” Wilbur noticed his voice crack, worry pouring through his words. Techno walked into the living room quickly, Phil not far behind. “Wil, what's going on?” Phil asked, posture tense. 

“Everything Wil, everything is so so so wrong, and I can’t fix it anymore. I don’t know what to do.” Before he could respond to Phil, Tommy’s shaky voice answered his question. Realizing needed to calm Tommy down, he rushed out reassurances. 

“It's going to be okay, alright? Where are your parents?” Wil asked, and he had decided there and then he was going to get to Tommy, no matter how long it took. He shuffled around his house, grabbing his shoes from the closet, the fur trim of the winter boots brushing against his hand. At the moment, Tommy needed someone there, and if Wilbur couldn’t get there for at least an hour, then his parents could. He felt himself stop short of grabbing his jacket as Tommy yelled a very un-Tommy yell.

“That’s a good fucking question!” he flinched physically at the volume and rage that was thrown into the angry words. “They’re gone Wilbur, they’re gone and I-I don’t know if-” A cough stopped the boys sentence short. A barely audible whisper followed, and Wilbur felt his world tilt.

_“I don’t think they’re coming back”_

Gone gone? He heard the whispered ending, they weren’t returning. Surely he had misheard. Who _left_ their kid? He’d met the boy’s parents, had he missed something he should have picked up on, some attitude or signal or _something_?

Choked, fast and inconsistent breathing patterns interrupted his train of thought, and he passed the phone to Phil. He couldn’t think straight, let alone comfort someone at the moment. Phil was better equipped to handle this situation anyway. 

Never in Wilbur’s life had he felt so helpless. Determined to change that, he slung his coat over his shoulders, headed towards his car, keys firmly in hand. Techno trailed behind him, confused, completely unaware of the words exchanged between Wil and Tommy. Phil’s calming words clued him into the fact that the teen was freaking out, but that was about it. 

Phil clambered into the backseat, Techno in the passengers' side while Wilbur shoved his keys into the ignition. Before Techno could ask what was going on, the 6’5” giant spoke up.

“He had a panic attack, Techno, and his parents are gone. I don’t know what’s going on, that's all I really got from the conversation,” he explained to the perplexed brunette sitting beside him. 

The shorter brunette seemed to think over the words, mulling them over in his head for a solid minute as Wilbur headed towards the highway. “Hand me the phone Phil,” Techno turned around in his seat, hand outstretched, face set in grim mask. Phil obliged, handing the thin device over.

“Where are you?”

A beat of silence, and then; “What’s your address Tommy.” Wilbur swore under his breath, the fact that he didn’t know Tommy’s address dawning on him. He’d only had one thought on his mind, keys gripped in his grasp, and it was to get to Tommy. 

“We’re coming to your house. We care about you Toms, we want to make sure you're alright I’m-we’re worried,” Techno said firmly. A pause, and then; 

“Tommy, don’t you dare hangup on me.” 

And then an irritated grumble.

“He hung up on me. That little shit.”

Techno redialed the teenagers number again and again, calls ignored. “He’s not picking up,” Techno informed the two elders in the car, grimacing. Phil pulled his phone out, typing quickly as Wilbur continued to drive to London. 

Moments later, Phil spewed out an address, with the explanation of ‘Tubbo told me’, and Wilbur instructed Techno to punch the directions into his phone. 

An hour or so later, they arrived in a rural area. Numbers of brightly lit houses passed by, cars cramping the streets. 

“What does that house say Phil?” Wil spoke up, gripping the wheel tightly, knuckles white. He stared at a dark house at the corner of the street, made of brown brick, curtains pulled over all front windows.

2109\. It's Tommy’s house.”

Never in Wilbur’s life had a house during Christmas time looked so dead. Unlike every other house on the street, no bright, tacky Christmas lights adorned its eaves, the trees bare of any sort of decoration. The porch lights were off, and there appeared to be not a single light source on in the building. The driveway was absent of any car, until Wil pulled onto the cracking pavement.

As he killed the engine, Techno leapt out of the car, heading towards the peeling red door, Phil close behind. Wrapping his coat around himself tighter, the tallest of the bunch quickly joined the others at the door. 

Wil guessed that the blonde man in front of him had already knocked on the door.

His thoughts were confirmed when distant shuffling behind the door could be heard, and out of the corner of Wilbur’s eye, he saw movement from the side window.

Rapping on the door quickly, Wilbur spoke up. 

“Tommy, I can see you peeking through the door. Open up.” Silence, and then;

“Go away Wilbur.” the sound came directly behind the door, hoarse and brittle. Phil shivered, the snow that had been falling ever so slowly speeding up. 

“I’d rather not drive through this weather again, especially with it worsening,” he commented dryly, trying to convince Tommy to allow them inside. It was fucking _freezing_ out here. 

“Toms, please let us in,” Phil spoke up, teeth chattering. “We want to make sure you're okay.” This time, Tommy didn’t answer right away. 

“We’re not mad at you,” Techno spoke up. “We don’t care that you haven’t been answering calls or responding to messages. We _do_ care however when you finally answer your phone, and you're struggling and not asking for help.”

_Creak_

He looked exhausted. Dark circles made blue eyes look duller than normal, hair a horrendous mess, mouth set into a look of determination. A hoodie and baggy sweat pants that were far too big for the boys' lithe frame hung over each limb, the bottom cuffs of the pants so long that there was a chance that the teen would trip over them. 

“You're not mad?”

His head tilted to the side slightly, and it was clear that he had just woken up, eyes blinking as he tried to focus. 

Wilbur took a step closer, stopping the advance when the boy flinched slightly. Hesitating, he decided to smile reassuringly instead. 

“Were not mad Tommy.”

The door swung completely open, and the boy took a step to the side. The three adults took that as a sign to walk inside, slipping in one by one. It was odd not to be greeted by a string of curses and ‘big man’s’. The four males stood awkwardly in the hallway, Techno shifting his feet as he took in his surroundings.

Looking around, Wilbur felt the gut feeling deepen. There was a scrawny evergreen tree decorated with a few ornaments, boxes of Christmas decorations laying untouched nearby, and a cardboard box sat underneath the tree. The room was the only sign that it was even Christmas at all. 

Techno decided to speak up, breaking the ice.

“Tommy-” he began, looking at the blonde, and then froze as Tommy burst into tears.

The teen buried his eyes in the sleeves of his shirt, tears flowing fast. He hiccuped, heaving as he tried to stop himself unsuccessfully. Wilbur stepped forward, and Tommy didn’t flinch as he wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, who moved his hands away from his face and around Wilbur’s waist instead.

The yellow sweatered man felt Phil and Techno join in, and if Wilbur's shirt got wet, he didn’t comment on it, simply holding the boy.

“I-I don’t know what I did wrong,” he whispered. “I-I did _everything_ , and they just left, and I’m alone-” he sniffed. “They don't love me, a-and.” There was a loud swallowing sound.

“I don’t think they ever did.”

Wil felt tears fall down his own face, landing on the floor that had clumps of melting snow from boots, mixing with the pools forming. 

“Oh Tommy,” he whispered, voice cracking, and despite everything he smiled. “It's going to be okay, because you don’t need them, yeah? W-we love you Tommy, you're our Toms! They don’t deserve you, you’re so young, you shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he whispered, running his hands through blonde knotted hair softly.

Phil murmured words of love and family, Techno rubbed circles on the blondes back as he cried harder, falling to the floor as they sat there, crying.

“We love you, and nothing can change that,” Techno spoke softly, and for the first time in the last two weeks, Wilbur felt calm, truly calm. Free of the guilt and worry that had become a frequent visitor as of late, the weight of the gut feeling lightened. They sat on the ground, holding each other as if they let go the world would collapse. In the pools of water from snowy weather, puffy jackets and tears, shaky breathing and reassuring words of comfort, home had never felt so close.

After what felt like hours when it was probably only one, Tommy let out a laugh.

“We’re a bunch of saps, aren’t we?” he laughed wetly. Techno snorted, leaning back on his hands on the wood floor. “Really, that's what you're taking away from this?”

Phil chuckled, standing up and offering his hand out to Tommy, who took it and pulled himself up. Wilbur stood moments later, followed by Techno. 

“Wow, Phil, you are _short_ ” Wilbur commented, snickering. “What-Your all just bloody tall! I’m average height you giants!” he spluttered, putting on a face of mock offense. Wilbur felt the gut feeling get lighter and lighter, Tommy’s smile making it almost disappear.

“Thanks guys,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes. 

“No problem kid,” Techno ruffled the blonde’s hair, smirking. As Tommy began to protest he wasn’t a kid, Wilbur and Phil shared a look of silent agreement for a moment. They weren’t leaving.

“Really guys, thanks. I’m sorry to have made you come all this way to make sure I was okay, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he said, biting his lip. “The weather cleared up, it should be safe to drive in now.”

Wilbur only laughed, ignoring Tommy’s confused look that was sent his way.

“You got any board games Toms?” he asked, pulling his boots off, Phil and Techno doing the same. Tommy spluttered, looking at them, mouth agape.

“You-you don’t have to _stay_ ,” he insisted, looking at them if they were ridiculous. Phil snorted.  
“And leave you alone here? It's the holidays for Christ’s sake, that would be a real dick move.” Techno nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, so? Holidays are meant to be spent with family!” he pointed out, a look of hurt crossing over his features, obviously thinking of his parents. The thought of why Tommy was upset in the first place brought an ugly monster up to the surface, anger radiating off of Wil in waves as he thought of the awful parents Tommy had unfortunately been raised by. 

“That’s what we're doing nerd. Now come on, let's go pick a game,” and Techno grabbed Tommy’s arm, dragging him into the family room. Bickering could be heard as they left the older two of the group in the foyer.

“I’ve always wanted to spend Christmas in London again,” Wilbur commented, staring at Phil, who smiled back. 

“I’ve heard the lights here are fantastic during the winter, and they have a really nice ice skating rink,” Phil said absentmindedly, and they both laughed before heading towards the shouts of ‘Monopoly, you fucker!’ and ‘No, let's play a strategy game!’.

They’d talk to Tommy later about everything further, but for now, they’d enjoy the peace before the inevitable storm to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to post, lately I've been so busy. I apologize. I do hope this chapter is up to standards though, and I'm thinking of adding 1 or 2 more chapters, and then ending it hopefully before Christmas. And finally, Tommy is getting the hugs and love he deserves!
> 
> Also, Wilburs new song is amazing! I laughed at the 'Of course I've met Jared!' line, it kills me everytime.


	3. The lights that lit your eyes with stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Haha! I did it bitch!” he hollered, smirking at Phil. “You all doubted me-””no one doubted you-” “But I proved you wrong!” Blue eyes confidently surveyed the rink, before landing on a chatting Techno and Wilbur. 
> 
> Looking back at Phil, he snickered and then went to go torment the other two adults. Phil sighed as he saw Tommy push an unsuspecting Wilbur into a bank of piled snow, yelling something akin to “Suck it bitch boy!” before falling face first onto the ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I haven't updated in almost two whole months, I feel awful. Last time I updated L'Manburg wasn't blown to shit more than once. 
> 
> Also sorry it isn't very long :(

Phil rubbed a hand over his face, sighing as he blearily blinked. Untangling himself from the limbs criss crossing over his chest, he sat up, stretching. Glancing to where he previously lay, he smiled, removing his dying phone from his back pocket.

Snapping a photo of the sleeping boys, he noted the arm wrapped around Tommy’s mid from Wilbur in a protective manner, and Techno’s in the blondes’ hair. After he'd acquired the black mail, he walked into the kitchen, being as quiet as possibly.

Sifting through cupboards, he frowned at the lack of food, the fridge bare except some orange juice, an empty carton of milk, and a handful of free range eggs. The cupboards were no better, stale bread and a few chips along with a couple granola packs, and a half empty tin of hot chocolate powder. 

Had Tommy been living on this? Had he been eating or drinking anything other than hot chocolate, mugs piling up in the sink. Judging by his unhealthy appearance the other night, likely so. 

Realizing there wasn’t anything for breakfast, he grabbed a piece of paper and pen that had been lying around, scribbling out a note and then yanked on his boats and tossed his coat on, grabbing Wilbur’s keys from his jacket’s pocket and heading out to the brunette’s car. 

Hopefully the grocery store wasn’t wiped clean, considering it was the day before Christmas. 

\----

When he came back, he noticed that Techno was no longer asleep, rather sitting at the table scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. Noticing Phil walk into the kitchen with plastic bags dangling from his arms, he got up to help him put the contents away and carry in the rest of the groceries. Despite it being the 24th, there was still quite a bit in stock as it turned out.

They began to make breakfast in silence, the sounds of bacon and sausages sizzling and the smell of baked beans and potatoes surrounding the atmosphere. 

“Phil.”

“Hmm?”

“What do we do?”

Carefully turning down the burner that was currently cooking the eggs, he sighed. 

“I don’t know Techno, I really don’t. What I _do_ know, is that we have to be there for him. Let's make this Christmas special, whaddya say?” Phil laughed at the end, before flipping over some of the eggs. 

“Sounds like the start of a plan, Mr. Minecraft,” Techno replied, and then pushed down the toaster. “I heard there's a skating rink open, we can rent skates and spend the afternoon there,” he suggested.  
Phil inwardly smiled, knowing Techno had conducted research on activities for the day when he’d stepped out of the house.

“How far?” The eggs were placed on four different plates, alongside a spoonful of beans and a few strips of bacon. 

“Not very. Maybe a ten minute drive. It's free admission, it's outdoors, but skates cost a few dollars to rent,” -Oh, he most definitely did research- “We can get some hot chocolate after and then do some shopping,” the brunette supplied.

The plan now set, Techno went to wake up Wil and Tommy, the grumbles of a few more minutes of wistful sleep floating into the kitchen from the family room. 

“Breakfast is served boys,” Phil announced, placing down plates heaped with food down on the table. They ate and chatted, avoiding any topic about Tommy's parents. And if Tommy was quieter than usual and didn’t eat much, none of them pointed it out.

\---

“How does everybody feel about going skating?” Phil asked, scraping a plate into the garbage, waiting to see Tommy’s reaction. Blue eyes sparked in curiosity at the mention of the winter time activity.

“I don’t think I’ve skated in a real long time,” Tommy mused, wiping his hands on a napkin. “But it sounds fun. But, uh, don’t you guys have to go home?”

Wil and Phil exchanged a glance, and the shorter gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“We're going to stay for Christmas, with you Toms,” Wilbur announced. Tommy’s jaw dropped, and he looked like he might cry, blinking rapidly. “And this is going to be the best Christmas you’ve ever had!”

Ever the dramatist, Wil thrust his hands out in a wide gesture, smiling widely. Tommy didn’t argue with him, and Phil had a feeling that he knew he wouldn’t win if he did. 

Half an hour later, they were all bundled up and driving to the rink, as Tommy told the story of how awkward his one million video had been when he’d told random girls that they were his girlfriend. When they arrived in the parking lot, they clambered out and went to rent four pairs of skates. Ten minutes later (after Wilbur spent a while finding the perfect pair), they laced up.

Currently, Tommy was trying not to fall as he held Techno’s arm in a death grip. Turns out that the blonde teen had forgotten how to skate.

Phil ignored the depressing part of his mind that asked if he’d ever learned at all, if anyone had taken him out and held his hand and taught him how to put one foot in front of the other. 

Wilbur skated past them with ease, mocking them, and Phil laughed and took photos. As he skated past a babbling toddler who seemed to have a better understanding of the physics of skating then Tommy, he heard a familiar shriek.

Turning around, he saw a flailing teen screaming at Techno as he pulled the blue eyed boy forward, skating backwards.

“TECHNO!” Tommy screeched, gathering annoyed glances from people passing by as he did so, “WHAT’RE YOU-AHHH!” and Tommy was sent halfway across the ice, desperately trying to stay up on his two trembling legs, nearly smacking into a dozen people. A few seconds of hugging the boards and glares later, he demanded Wilbur come help him from his current predicament. 

Phil took picture after picture, smiling. He pushed away thoughts of what they would do about Tommy’s current situation for later, deciding that living in the moment was better. 

“Phillllll! Old man, Mr. Minecraft!” the shouts of said overexburent blonde made Phil turn around. Wobbling over was Tommy, pink hands holding onto a red skating guard supporting his inability to skate. Phil chuckled, gliding over. 

“Where are your gloves mate?” he asked, noting the pinkish hue of his hands. 

“I can’t hold this damn thing with my gloves on,” the teen whined in response. “And now my fingers are fucking frozen.” Phil rolled his eyes and huffed at the blone’s lack of gloves. 

“Toms, here, grab my arm and put your gloves on,” he laughed, pushing the skating aid to the side. “I promise I won’t push you.” Hesitantly, now-gloved hands grabbed his arm, and Phil began to guide him on how to skate.

“Push, glide. Push, glide-yeah! Like that, great job!” he smiled warmly at the boy, feeling something akin to pride as he let Tommy go and watched him take a few steps without falling. They continued through the motion a few more times, before Tommy, in a Tommy fashion, began to get cocky.

“Haha! I did it bitch!” he hollered, smirking at Phil. “You all doubted me-””no one doubted you-” “But I proved you wrong!” Blue eyes confidently surveyed the rink, before landing on a chatting Techno and Wilbur. 

Looking back at Phil, he snickered and then went to go torment the other two adults. Phil sighed as he saw Tommy push an unsuspecting Wilbur into a bank of piled snow, yelling something akin to “Suck it bitch boy!” before falling face first onto the ice. 

\----

“You're such an idiot.”

“Am not.”

Techno snorted as he watched Wilbur poke Tommy in annoyance, as the blonde held a tissue to his bleeding nose. Phil sipped from the paper cup he currently held, savouring the warmth of the chocolatey beverage. He couldn’t help but smile as they walked through the large mall.

“Tommy, you literally pushed Wilbur, mocked him, and then fell on your _face_!” the blonde man countered in Wil's defense. Tommy only grumbled in response, scoffing. 

They continued to walk, pointing out random displays and snickered at a local Karen in a clothing outlet as they passed by. They stopped to pick up a small lunch, in which Tommy declined the offer, despite later protests of ‘Your leeching off my fries Tommy!’ ‘Am not!’ ‘Phillllllll!’.

It was when they spotted a window display with itchy looking apparel that Phil struck an idea. 

“We're getting ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“We are?” Techno looked at him blankly, blinking, before a look of dread drenched his features as he saw Phil’s expression, one that ensured evil shenanigans would pursue.

And evil shenanigans indeed did pursue the group as the shortest of the males dragged them inside, cheerfully greeting an employee, and asking for directions to the section of ‘the fabulous clothing in the window’.

As of now, Tommy was on the floor, wheezing, and Phil was using Wilbur as support as laughter forced its way through his entire body, making him bend over. Wilbur himself had erupted into euphoria upon seeing Techno walk out of the changing room, frowning. 

Red and green patterns criss crossed, and a multitude of different coloured lights flashed, making the brunette appear to have run through the display section of a department store. The sweater itself was a glittery red, with a gold trimming akin to garland, and had a few tacky plastic ornaments pinned to it. In bright white letters, it read ‘This Christmas, I got a ~~wish~~ hit list’. It was probably one of the ugliest things that Phil had ever laid eyes on. 

The murderous glare that the brunette currently was sending the three made the sweater ten times funnier, setting them all into another fit of giggles.

“You look like a fucking Christmas tree Techno, bloody hell,” wheezed the brown eyed beanie wearer. The Christmas tree looked at him for a few moments before deciding his fate.

“Guess I can take out a few on my list…” Techno mused before leaping at Wilbur, who let out a screech and ran off towards the racks. Phil nearly fell forward without Wil’s support beam like nature there, which caused Tommy to cry as he gasped for breath, laughter breaking through his attempts. As the two blondes recovered, they watched as the brunettes tried to kill each other, ignoring the frantic worrying of the employees. 

“...Phil?” 

The man turned towards Tommy, seeing him look much calmer, peaceful almost compared to the night before and only seconds earlier. 

“Yeah Tommy?”

“Thanks.”

Phil smiled warmly at him, a smile that seemed to push away doubt and welcome the warmth with open arms.

“Anytime Tommy, I’ll always be here.”

Tommy let out a deep breath, smiling ever still. The calm expression turned to one of mock horror as he saw a smirking Christmas tree and a bean pole with a scarf of Christmas colours and rainbow lights come towards the changing rooms, something fluffy and red in the Christmas trees branch hands.

Where Wil had picked up the atrocious scarf would remain unknown, but Tommy began to stand up in an attempt to get an early head start upon seeing the article of clothing. 

“Oh no.”

\---

“I refuse.”

“But your sweater-” Wilbur pointed out, trying to convince the raging teen to allow him to hug him. 

“The sweater lies Wilbur, the sweater lies.”

The red sweater was fluffy, and had an image of olaf on the front, hands outstretched with the words; ‘I like warm hugs’ written in bubble letters. To most, it would seem adorable, childish, but to Tommy, it was an inevitable death trap leading to Wilbur attempting to hug him several times.

“Wilbur, if I ever wear this sweater again and walk into an alleyway, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you jump me just to give me a hug. Which is why I’m bringing Christmas tree over there-” Tommy pointed a finger at Techno, who glanced up from something on his phone-”With me whenever I wear this. Mans got you on his hitlist bitch.”

Phil laughed, and Techno snorted, flicking a button on his phone to power it off and pocketing it. 

“Or I’ll just let him, who says you're not on my hitlist to Toms?” Techno asked, raising an eyebrow. Tommy’s eyes widened.

“Techno, Big T, bruv, my friend! Why would I, an innocent man, the biggest man of all, be on your hitlist?” Techno rolled his eyes, chuckling. They reached the car, and Phil clambered into the driver's seat.

“I CALL SHOTGUN!” Tommy screamed, rushing towards the door, throwing it open and slipping inside before the brunettes could react. Slamming the door and locking it shut, he stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry as the other two males looked at him in disbelief from the other side of the window. 

“I hope he gets his tongue stuck to the window.”

\---

“Oh, oh! Look above, Phil!” The car was cruising slowly through Regent Street, where large glittering angels hung suspended in the air above the cars below, drapes of lights hanging lowly as they connected the lights to the buildings standing tall beside the road. Phil smiled softly as he saw the amazement displayed on Tommy’s face.

“Have you not seen these before, Tommy?” Wilbur asked from the land of the backseat, where the banished sat. Tommy shook his head, eyes never leaving the lights.

“Nah. Mum and Dad never took me out to see the lights. Said it was a waste of gas and not worth it or something I think.” he didn’t seem fazed at the words, as if the weight they held was non-existent. It made Phil’s once happy smile turn into one of sadness. 

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to show you the best ones to make up for it then!” Phil exclaimed, and listened to places listed off by Techno, following the monotone voice that could be a GPS’s directions.

They ended up in Covent Garden, a seven minute drive away from Regent, where they parked and walked about, marveling at the sheer size of the brightly decorated Christmas tree. 

“How do you reckon they got all those lights on?” Tommy asked aloud, in which Techno began a ramble of possible ways one could go about doing so. And unlike when Techno usually explained something to Tommy, he listened intently. 

It was moments like these that reminded Phil of the mask Tommy placed on whenever he streamed, or with conversations outside of streaming. 

Again, he ignored the voice that asked how long he’d had it on for.

They got back to the car, the moon high in the sky, before they took a sixteen minute drive to Canary Wharf, where they gazed at multicoloured trees, and took photos of Techno standing among them, and yelling one of us. 

As they walked back to the car, Phil noticed Tommy dragging behind slightly, and slowed his pace down. 

“Tired?”

“Hmm?”

Chuckling softly, Phil tentatively wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulder, guiding him towards the car. 

“Why don’t you sit in the back with Wil, and take a nap on the way home?” the blonde suggested.

“The backseat of banishment? I could never.” the teen playfully argued. 

He sat in the back seat with Wil in the end, having fallen asleep by the time the car pulled into the desolate driveway, empty of any other souls aside from those in the warm car. Wilbur’s arms were wrapped around Tommy, who moved into the warmth, stirring only slightly as the car's constant hum flicked off. 

Wilbur carried the lanky limbed teen upstairs, tucking him into bed before making his way back downstairs to wrap gifts he’d gotten at the mall secretly. That night, with one ear open in case Tommy awoke and needed help, Phil, Techno and Wilbur wrapped gifts for each other, and silently discussed the predicament of the youngest of their friend group. 

They fell asleep on the couches in the living room, with the teen upstairs feeling happier and more at peace then he’d had in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a reason why I haven't uploaded. I had a lot of overdue work and finals, near the end of January that I had planned to finish. A close relative of mine became ill during this time, and it was very stressful on my family, as we couldn't visit them due to restrictions on travel within the country due to COVID. They passed away, and it's been hard on my family. I hope you all understand.
> 
> On a happier note, I wrote a fluff chapter and it isn't total shit, and I'm surprisingly okay with how the chapter turned out. I'm planning on making a small second installment of this story that goes into the monopoly game, which I was inspired to do by @Thelmazer1, so thank you for that! Techno's Christmas sweater was inspired by the song 'I'm Gonna Kill Santa Claus' by Danny Gonzalez, and the places in London I researched using the website below. 
> 
> https://www.visitlondon.com/things-to-do/whats-on/christmas/best-christmas-lights-in-london
> 
> I hope you all stay safe, please take care of yourselves! <3 Thank you to all those who have taken time out of their day to read this, and stayed with this fic for so long despite the awful update schedule.

**Author's Note:**

> Should I do more?


End file.
